the rest of the world there seemed no change。 But to the two of
them； there was the perpetual wonder of the transfiguration。
He did not know her any better； any more precisely； now that
he knew her altogether。 Poland； her husband； the warhe
understood no more of this in her。 He did not understand her
foreign nature； half German； half Polish； nor her foreign
speech。 But he knew her； he knew her meaning； without
understanding。 What she said； what she spoke； this was a blind
gesture on her part。 In herself she walked strong and clear； he
knew her； he saluted her； was with her。 What was memory after
all； but the recording of a number of possibilities which had
never been fulfilled？ What was Paul Lensky to her； but an
unfulfilled possibility to which he； Brangwen； was the reality
and the fulfilment？ What did it matter； that Anna Lensky was
born of Lydia and Paul？ God was her father and her mother。 He
had passed through the married pair without fully making Himself
known to them。
Now He was declared to Brangwen and to Lydia Brangwen； as
they stood together。 When at last they had joined hands； the
house was finished； and the Lord took up his abode。 And they
were glad。
The days went on as before； Brangwen went out to his work；
his wife nursed her child and attended in some measure to the
farm。 They did not think of each otherwhy should they？ Only
when she touched him； he knew her instantly； that she was with
him； near him； that she was the gateway and the way out； that
she was beyond； and that he was travelling in her through the
beyond。 Whither？What does it matter？ He responded always。
When she called； he answered； when he asked； her response came
at once； or at length。
Anna's soul was put at peace between them。 She looked from
one to the other； and she saw them established to her safety；
and she was free。 She played between the pillar of fire and the
pillar of cloud in confidence； having the assurance on her right
hand and the assurance on her left。 She was no longer called
upon to uphold with her childish might the broken end of the
arch。 Her father and her mother now met to the span of the
heavens； and she； the child； was free to play in the space
beneath； between。
CHAPTER IV
GIRLHOOD OF ANNE BRANGWEN
When Anna was nine years old； Brangwen sent her to the dames'
school in Cossethay。 There she went； flipping and dancing in her
inconsequential fashion； doing very much as she liked；
disconcerting old Miss Coates by her indifference to
respectability and by her lack of reverence。 Anna only laughed
at Miss Coates； liked her； and patronized her in superb；
childish fashion。
The girl was at once shy and wild。 She had a curious contempt
for ordinary people； a benevolent superiority。 She was very shy；
and tortured with misery when people did not like her。 On the
other hand； she cared very little for anybody save her mother；
whom she still rather resentfully worshipped； and her father；
whom she loved and patronized； but upon whom she depended。 These
two； her mother and father； held her still in fee。 But she was
free of other people； towards whom； on the whole； she took the
benevolent attitude。 She deeply hated ugliness or intrusion or
arrogance； however。 As a child； she was as proud and shadowy as
a tiger； and as aloof。 She could confer favours； but； save from
her mother and father； she could receive none。 She hated people
who came too near to her。 Like a wild thing； she wanted her
distance。 She mistrusted intimacy。
In Cossethay and Ilkeston she was always an alien。 She had
plenty of acquaintances； but no friends。 Very few people whom
she met were significant to her。 They seemed part of a herd；
undistinguished。 She did not take people very seriously。
She had two brothers； Tom； darkhaired； small； volatile； whom
she was intimately related to but whom she never mingled with；
and Fred； fair and responsive； whom she adored but did not
consider as a real； separate thing。 She was too much the centre
of her own universe； too little aware of anything outside。
The first person she met； who affected her as a real；
living person； whom she regarded as having definite existence；
was Baron Skrebensky； her mother's friend。 He also was a Polish
exile； who had taken orders； and had received from Mr。 Gladstone
a small country living in Yorkshire。
When Anna was about ten years old； she went with her mother
to spend a few days with the Baron Skrebensky。 He was very
unhappy in his redbrick vicarage。 He was vicar of a country
church； a living worth a little over two hundred pounds a year；
but he had a large parish containing several collieries； with a
new； raw； heathen population。 He went to the north of England
expecting homage from the mon people； for he was an
aristocrat。 He was roughly； even cruelly received。 But he never
understood it。 He remained a fiery aristocrat。 Only he had to
learn to avoid his parishioners。
Anna was very much impressed by him。 He was a smallish man
with a rugged； rather crumpled face and blue eyes set very deep
and glowing。 His wife was a tall thin woman； of noble Polish
family； mad with pride。 He still spoke broken English； for he
had kept very close to his wife； both of them forlorn in this
strange； inhospitable country； and they always spoke in Polish
together。 He was disappointed with Mrs。 Brangwen's soft； natural
English； very disappointed that her child spoke no Polish。
Anna loved to watch him。 She liked the big； new； rambling
vicarage； desolate and stark on its hill。 It was so exposed； so
bleak and bold after the Marsh。 The Baron talked endlessly in
Polish to Mrs。 Brangwen； he made furious gestures with his
hands； his blue eyes were full of fire。 And to Anna； there was a
significance about his sharp； flinging movements。 Something in
her responded to his extravagance and his exuberant manner。 She
thought him a very wonderful person。 She was shy of him； she
liked him to talk to her。 She felt a sense of freedom near
him。
She never could tell how she knew it； but she did know that
he was a knight of Malta。 She could never remember whether she
had seen his star； or cross； of his order or not； but it flashed
in her mind； like a symbol。 He at any rate represented to the
child the real world； where kings and lords and princes moved
and fulfilled their shining lives； whilst queens and ladies and
princesses upheld the noble order。
She had recognized the Baron Skrebensky as a real person； he
had had some regard for her。 But when she did not see him any
more； he faded and became a memory。 But as a memory he was
always alive to her。
Anna became a tall； awkward girl。 Her eyes were still very
dark and quick； but they had grown careless； they had lost their
watchful； hostile look。 Her fierce； spun hair turned brown； it
grew heavier and was tied back。 She was sent to a young ladies'
school in Nottingham。
And at this period she was absorbed in being a young lady。
She was intelligent enough； but not interested in learning。 At
first； she thought all the girls at school very ladylike and
wonderful； and she wanted to be like them。 She came to a speedy
disillusion： they galled and maddened her； they were petty and
mean。 After the loose； generous atmosphere of her home； where
little things did not count； she was always uneasy in the world；
that would snap and bite at every trifle。
A quick change came over her。 She mistrusted herself； she
mistrusted the outer world。 She did not want to go on； she did
not want to go out into it； she wanted to go no further。
〃What do I care about that lot of girls？〃 she would
say to her father； contemptuously； 〃they are nobody。〃
The trouble was that the girls would not accept Anna at her
measure。 They would have her according to themselves or not at
all。 So she was confused； seduced； she became as they were for a
time； and then； in revulsion； she hated them furiously。
〃Why don't you ask some of your girls here？〃 her father would
say。
〃They're not ing here；〃 she cried。
〃And why not？〃
〃They're bagatelle；〃 she said； using one of her mother's rare
phrases。
〃Bagatelles or billiards； it makes no matter； they're nice
young lasses enough。〃
But Anna was not to be won over。 She had a curious shrinking
from monplace people； and particularly from the young lady of
her day。 She would not go into pany because of the
illatease feeling other people brought upon her。 And she never
could decide whether it were her fault or theirs。 She half
respected these other people； and continuous disillusion
maddened her。 She wanted to respect them。 Still she thought the
people she did not know were wonderful。 Those she knew seemed
always to be limiting her； tying her up in little falsities that
irritated her beyond bearing。 She would rather stay at home and
avoid the rest of the world； leaving it illusory。
For at the Marsh life had indeed a certain freedom and
largeness。 There was no fret about money； no mean little
precedence； nor care for what other people thought； because
neither Mrs。 Brangwen nor Brangwen could be sensible of any
judgment passed on them from outside。 Their lives were too
separate。
So Anna was only easy at home； where the mon sense and the
supreme relation between her parents produced a freer standard
of being than she could find outside。 Where； outside the Marsh；
could she find the tolerant dignity she had been brought up in？
Her parents stood undiminished and unaware of criticism。 The
people she met outside seemed to begrudge her her very
existence。 They seemed to want to belittle her also。 She was
exceedingly reluctant to go amongst them。 She depended upon her
mother and her father。 And yet she wanted to go out。
At school； or in the world； she was usually at fault； she
felt usually that she ought to be slinking in disgrace。 She
never felt quite sure； in herself； whether she were wrong； or
whether the others were wrong。 She had not done her lessons：
well； she did not see any reason why she should do her
lessons； if she did not want to。 Was there some occult reason
why she should？ Were these people； schoolmistresses；
representatives of some mystic Right； some Higher Good？ They
seemed to think so themselves。 But she could not for her life
see why a woman should bully and insult her because she did not
know thirty lines of As You Like It。 After all； what did
it matter if she knew them or not？ Nothing could persuade her
that it was of the slightest importance。 Because she despised
inwardly the coarsely working nature of the mistress。 Therefore
she was always at outs with authority。 From constant telling；
she came almost to believe in her own badness； her own intrinsic
inferiority。 She felt that she ought always to be in a state of
slinking disgrace； if she fulfilled what was expected of her。
But she rebelled。 She never really believed in her own badness。
At the bottom of her heart she despised the other people； who
carped and were loud over trifles。 She despised them； and wanted
revenge on them。 She hated them whilst they had power over
her。
Still she kept an ideal： a free； proud lady absolved from the
petty ties； existing beyond petty considerations。 She would see
such ladies in pictures： Alexan